Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
by redhazeKJ
Summary: Oneshot. For Modacelimazing42's contest. After leaving Smash Brothers suddenly and disappearing, Donkey Kong reveals his reason behind leaving. Name is from the Relient K song.


For The Contest For Those We've Left Behind (_Modacelimazing42)_

**It's set up like a reporter's interview. Those of you who read World War Z may recognize it. I realize that Donkey Kong is probably OOC, but I needed a character from all three games. Plus, I think it fits because Donkey Kong is one of those characters that has a lot of success in games with Donkey Kong Country and such, but I've never seen a fan fiction with him as the main character. Enjoy, and try to ignore any errors that I missed.**

_I enter the room and take a seat. It is empty except for a table and two chairs. It reminds me of an interrogation room. I start to pull my things out of my bag when he lumbers in. I must say, the gigantic ape is much more intimidating in real life. Well, obviously. He's an ape twice my size and has five times my strength. All these thoughts race through my head as he sits down. The chair sags underneath him, but I have a feeling he doesn't seem to notice. We begin with small talk. He was as kind as before when I talked to him on the phone. I soon pull out my recorder and get down to business._

"_Now, if you don't mind, Mr. Kong," I ask, hitting the record button, "would you mind telling me about what happened those few years ago?"_

Everything was going perfectly. Then, that last tournament… that's when it all came crashing down on me.

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Some things seemed to, at first, but the lines blurred quickly and I was left with questions once again. I wish I could go back; back to a time where things didn't have to make sense. To a time where everything around me was just another piece of reality, and I was oblivious to it; being lost in my fantasies. When I had no worries, no cares, no questions. Just dreams.

_He sighs_.

Those days are long gone, being destroyed when the letter had come. That letter that every fighter craved and prayed for every night; the infamous invitation to compete in the Super Smash Brothers tournament. From then on, I thought about what I said and what I did. I had to keep my image reputable. I no longer had time for dreams or the adventures in my head. I couldn't even escape when I was sleeping. The dreams of action had been replaced with nightmares of leaving the Smash Mansion, of losing my fans and my fame.

_He groans in anger and kicks the wall in front of him." What kind of nightmare was that? That shouldn't even be a fear!" he cries. I jump back, startled. He notices my distress and quickly apologizes before continuing more calmly._

But it was a fear; a fear that consumed me for a whole year. Competing was the only thing I had. I had no friends (not that I wanted any, I preferred solitude) and the only way to keep my audience was to win.

Obsessed. That is what I became. I trained non-stop. My life became wake up, train, eat, train, match, eat, train until it was midnight, which is when I would return to my room and sleep. I slept for exactly seven hours, and then I would start again. It was a routine, one that I easily grew tired of. Yet I continued. To this day, I don't know why I did. But I managed to work myself into a rut so deep I couldn't see the top. All the while, my audience was on my mind. I made sure they could peek through a window and see me. I made sure that there were cameras outside when I went for a run. Fame was everything to me, and I continued to crave it. It was like a drug, and I was addicted.

But everything comes to an end, and the tournament was ended, and we were sent back home. Some goodbyes were tearful, but the ones to me were a mumble of good-bye. Mario had the decency to tip his hat when he did, but it didn't matter to me. I thought I had lost everything. I had been so dependent on the response I got when I pounded my chest after a victory. The hollers and screams that deafened me for hours afterwards. I didn't know how I would survive without it.

Upon my return home, cheers were once again brought to my ears, and I became hopeful. My home loved me; and they would cheer. I would start showing off, flexing and doing acts that only a "hero" could do. I was so foolish. The praise was more than that of the whole world at first, but it died quickly when they grew tired of the spotlight always being on me. I became depressed, only coming out of my depression when someone had the nerve to steal from me. I teamed up with an eager fan; the only one who had stuck around. It turned out he wasn't half bad, but I didn't really pay attention then. I was too focused on my withdrawal. I might not have made it if the letter hadn't come again. It returned a year later. I celebrated, knowing that I was going to have my fame again.

There were more people this time around. To most of the Smashers, this meant new friends, new enemies and more fun. For me, however, this meant more people to steal that spotlight. But the audience responded the same way, sometimes louder than others, and I had my life back.

_He grows angry again, pounding his large fists on the table. "Life? What life?" He fumes for a few more minutes before remembering that I am there, sitting across from him, quivering with alarm. Again, he apologizes and continues. _

Well, it was a life. Not a good one, but one that seemed to satisfy me. It was the same thing as the tournament before. I trained every day, all day. For three hundred and sixty five days. Again, exactly a year later, we were sent home. I left earlier than most, but I didn't miss the early display of goodbyes. They were more favorable than last year, but I still didn't care. My mind was still trying to move on, after all that time focused on fame. I returned to a nearly silent home, the only one who really cheered was the little fan that I had tag teamed a retrieval mission with. He was, and still is, a good kid, and even when I practically ignored him, he would always make me feel wanted.

I waited eagerly for the next invitation to come, but it didn't come. I waited another year. Nothing. I began to worry. What if the letter didn't come? What if the tournament is over? What would I do with my life? I'm pretty sure every other Smasher was more disappointed in not seeing their friends, but I was too concerned with my own selfish worries.

Withdrawal slowly ebbed away, and I became myself again. I got to know that little fan of mine, and I began to enjoy myself. It felt amazing.

"_What was amazing?" I ask. _

_He smiles and hesitates before answering. I'm not sure it he is thinking or pausing for dramatic effect._

Having fun. I had forgotten how wonderful it feels to let go of everything on your mind and indulging yourself in a different world. A world of adventure and where happy endings were as common as a tree in the jungle. I had spent so much time worrying about my image that I had left all my old dreams to rot away. But I had an even better time coming up with new ones. My little fan friend and I had so many adventures together, full of laughter and comradeship. I forgot all about the tournament and my fame. The spotlight had gone dark.

But it was only set on dim. Seven years after returning from the second tournament, the letter returned to my jungle. But I was not the only one. My little fan Diddy Kong had earned a place in the ranks as well.

I panicked. It is the only way to describe it. I saw myself at his age when I was first invited. I remembered what had happened to me, and I couldn't let that happen to him as well. I tried to talk him into declining. We argued and he finished by saying:

"I'm not gonna end up like you did. I promise you that I won't. But you might want to look at where you stand with the fans."

I didn't understand what he was saying, nor did I act on it. It wasn't until about two weeks into the tournament. I had fallen prey to my old ways, and was enjoying the lime light even more. He was thriving. He was popular, but not as popular as others. But he hadn't lost his fantasies to the grasp of fame. One day I happened to look out my window and I saw him with other Smashers, the Ice Climbers and Olimar. They were in the midst of a game he and I had played many times before. I couldn't describe my jealousy to see him unchanged. It was then that I remembered what he said to me. It was the last thing he ever said to me.

I found the nearest computer and looked myself up on Google. I smiled smugly, but then I looked up some of the other popular Smashers. Everything I had crumpled underneath me. All my delusions faded away to reveal the cruel truth. All those years, and I thought I was the fan favorite. I thought I was the one they all wanted to see. I thought they adored me. But no; all those years they hadn't been cheering for me. They were cheering for the winner. After all those years, I finally realized that they cheered louder for people like Link and Marth. I finally realized that I was a background character, not more than a fly on the wall compared to the popularity of some of the others. The royals, the heroes and the teenagers. I looked desperately for a Donkey Kong fan page. I found some, but the ratio to that of Link's fan pages was embarrassing.

I thought of all the things I had said to Diddy. I told him that not everyone is as successful as me. But I was wrong. I wasn't successful compared to what I had held myself to. My pedestal was close to the ground, not high up. And I had been ignorant. Ignorance was my downfall.

Ashamed, I locked myself in my room. I needed to throw up, but I was too disappointed in myself to look in the mirror. People came knocking on my door, but I would have only answered to one person, and he never came.

I made my decision soon afterwards.

After only two and half weeks, I left the tournament. The walk to the portals was the longest ever. There was always press waiting when we went home after the year was out, but now there was more. So many people wanting to talk to me. It was all I ever wanted, but I knew that they were waiting for me to disappear into the blue portal before interviewing the others about my sudden resigning.

I took all of my stuff and left my home. I strayed deeper and deeper into the jungle until I was sure no one would come looking for me. I've been there ever since. Shadows have been my friends, and my bed is my thinking chair.

So many questions still plague me. They're the same questions that I asked myself three years ago. What if I hadn't tried to talk Diddy into not going? Would he have shown me my mistakes? Would he have stuck with me? What if I had stayed? Could I have lived with myself, knowing what I did?

Questions that have never left me. I worry everyday about what happened to Diddy. I hope he is okay.

I wish I hadn't let fame get to me. I wish I hadn't yelled at Diddy. I wish I had never accepted the invitations. No, I would still accept the invitation if I could do this again. But I would do everything else differently. I would do things right.

**XXX**

_Donkey Kong left soon after that. He left me new contact information. I sent it to a computer room a few minutes ago. They will recover a location from the information. I will hand that location to the one who just watched the entire interview. He sits behind a one way glass wall. His name is Diddy Kong. _

**Please tell me what you think. This is different than my usual style of writing. I don't mind negative reviews. I'll take it in stride.**

**I realize it might get a little cheesy (did I just say cheesy?) towards the end and may be a little cliché. Either way, I think a happy ending is needed for this story. About the cliché…I like clichés. I realize that might sound weird, but I like taking that overused theme and twisting just enough to make it my own. Plus, this is a special theme for me because I can't stand people who think they are better than others. And I actually have no idea if there are fan pages like I said. I'm guessing there are, but I've never seen one so I don't know.**

**Tell me if you think I should keep writing fan fiction. I think it's fun, but I don't want to write a story and have no one read it. It just kind of defeats the purpose in my opinion. **

**Please review!**


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